Summary : When Steve, your best friend, gets his plans for the weekend cancelled without notice, you allow him to come with you to your parents' cottage by the lake.
Warnings : MDNI!!, friends to lovers, pining (from reader mostly), water fight, kissing, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), Steve comes in his pants, slight fluff.
A/N : Second fic!! Wrote this one pretty quickly trying to distract myself from the end of the term, so it's not super fleshed out. Uni is kicking my ass and I needed something fun to do. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy it!
WC : 3,719
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Water.
You never imagined you could be jealous of actual fucking water. It seems crazy, but God, if you could suck up the whole lake and leave it dry and unable to cling to him like that, you would.
It all started with your best friend Steve shoving past you through your doorway, quickly marching to your room. "I swear to God, I'm gonna kill her!"
You scoff and stare outside at your now empty porch. “Oh, Hi Steve! No, I’m not busy. Sure, come in!” You say sarcastically, exaggerating your normal conversational voice. You slam the door and walk back to your room, crossing your arms over your chest and stopping in the doorway. “Who, Robin?”
He’s sprawled on your bed, entirely too comfortable in your space. One hand is buried in his chestnut hair, tugging at the roots, while his other is resting on his belly and gesturing as he talks. There’s a crease between his brows. “Yeah, Robin. Remember how we were supposed to hang out this weekend? Well, she’s ditching me to hang out with her cool new girlfriend or whatever, and now I have no plans and a whole weekend off.”
It’s true. Family Video was exceptionally closed because of a huge water leak a few days ago that needed fixing. When they told you about their plans, you had declined, explaining how you already promised your mom that you’d make the drive up to your parents’ cottage by Lake Kemi for the weekend. In all honesty, you were really looking forward to doing nothing for two whole days, soaking up the sun and maybe taking a swim.
Your suitcase is halfway done on your dresser, begging to be filled with all your bikinis and jeans shorts and almost nothing else. You sigh and walk inside your room, resuming the packing you were doing before Steve’s interruption. “That’s Robin for ya. Can’t blame her, it’s all… new for her.”
He props himself on his elbows and looks at you, his tone filling with self-pity. “Guess you’re right, just… My parents aren’t home, and the kids are all at camp or away… s’gonna be boring.”
Sigh.
The gravel crunches in a satisfactory manner as you roll up the homemade driveway of your parents’ cottage, Steve’s fingers tapping against the outside of the passenger door in excitement. He whistles, looking at the lot and the lake that’s spreading a little further away. “Damn, this place is insane. Thanks for inviting me, honey.”
You scoff, turning the keys in the ignition and taking them out. “Inviting you? You basically forced yourself into my plans.”
He shoots you his most annoying, stupidly handsome grin and winks. “Guilty. Now come on, let’s not lose anymore sun.”
You shake your head as you get out of the car, but you can’t fight the smile that spreads on your face. Maybe it will be fun to not be by yourself out here.
Once your mom greeted you with a hug – and Steve with a hug, a kiss and a pinch to his cheek – you led him to the guest room of the cottage to drop his hastily put together bag. “You’ll sleep here. My room’s just next door.”
It doesn’t take long before you’re both outside and ready to relax and enjoy the warm summer heat. You’re wearing a bright bikini, some kind of pale yellow that looks soft and summery. Steve’s wearing black swim shorts that are entirely way too short, showing off his strong thighs. Oh, and the lack of shirt is distracting too.
He approaches you as you’re about to lay down on the old, patterned blanket you had placed on the grass. “Hey, mind getting my back?” He gestures to the sunscreen in his hand.
Fuck. Steve’s just your best friend. You’re hot, attractive, protective, and sweet, best friend. And obviously you were down bad for him. But he was former King Steve, and you were just Robin’s friend from band that made their duo into a trio. A nobody, really. You had no shot, right? Still, grabbing the sunscreen from his hand, you feel a flutter in your stomach at the thought of touching him. “Sure, turn around.”
He obeys and turns around, exposing the broad plane of his back to you. The moles pepper it like constellations, and you wish you could spend enough time tracing them to name them all. His already tan skin looks smooth and inviting. His voice pulls you out of your appreciation. “Make sure it’s even, though. Don’t need handprints on my back like Dustin’s last year’s disaster.”
The memory of Steve covered in small white handprints while the rest of his back was lobster red makes you chuckle. You squirt some of the creamy lotion in your hand and make contact with the dip between his shoulder blades. “No promises, Harrington.”
As soon as the sunscreen hits his skin, the muscles in his back flex and he winces from the difference in temperature. “Ah! S’cold.”
You can’t help it, your thighs clench together at the sight. “Suck it up.” You spread the lotion around his back, making sure to cover over his shoulders and down to the waistband of his shorts. The dip of his spine is sinful every time you go over it. You finish with a tap to his shoulder. “There you go.”
“Thanks. Want a beer?” he says casually, totally unaffected by the fact that you just had your hands all over him. It sends a slight pang of disappointment in your chest, proving to you that you really don’t have a chance.
You glance away, stopping the feeling from festering, and you nod. “Yeah.”
The sun is high in the sky, beating down on your skin and making it sweat even though you’re both just lounging on blankets, sipping cold beers. Your sunglasses hide the way your eyes keep drifting toward Steve, watching the beads of moisture go down his temples, his neck, his back.
“I’m gonna go for a swim, need to cool off,” he mumbles as he gets up and lightly jogs toward the floating dock. The wooden planks creak as he makes his way to the edge, accelerating to fully launch himself and dive head-first into the water. Show off.
You lose sight of him while he’s in the lake, but when he comes back out… yeah. Water jealousy. Fuck that water. You wish you could touch him like that.
His hair is wet and pushed backward as he walks back toward you, water droplets racing down his arms and dripping from his fingertips. The hair on his chest is shimmering, plastered to his body, the water creating snaky rivers down his happy trail. His shorts seem tighter, painted on with how wet and stuck to his skin they are. No need for imagination. The comment Robin had made a while ago and that had you obsessing over if it was true or not, just proved its veracity in a matter of seconds. King fucking Steve.
You swallow thickly, unable to tear your gaze away.
“Refreshing.” He says to you with a wink.
You scramble up, not trusting yourself to be normal if you stay close to him while he looks like all of your fantasies rolled into one. “I’ll uh… I’ll test it out.”
You quickly make your way to the edge of the dock, needing the cold water to cool down the burning desire inside you. You’re unaware that Steve’s gaze did not leave your ass as you made your way over there.
You dive into the water, maybe not as impressively as Steve, but still gracefully. The lake is quite cold, a stark contrast to the heat of the air as you breach the surface and use the momentum to go farther beneath the water. Once you come back out, you let yourself float on your back, the weightless feeling and drowned out noise helping to slow your thoughts. The cold water makes your nipples pebble, and when it brushes against you’re overheated core as you spread your legs to start swimming back to the dock, you gasp softly.
“CANNONBALL!”
The next thing you know, water splashes in your face and you start coughing from having swallowed some of it. “Steve!” You shout as he comes back up for air and shakes his head like a dog, flicking even more water toward you.
He laughs brightly, swimming closer to you. He looks like summer, like happiness, like something wild you’d love to bottle and keep, but can’t risk taming. “Sorry, honey. Just couldn’t resist.”
The term of endearment rekindles the fire that had subsided inside you. You can feel your cheeks flushing as you both swim to stay in the same spot, just keeping afloat. “You dingus.”
He grins and swims a bit closer, his hand accidentally brushing your arm, but he doesn’t apologize. “Thought we were here to have some fun, no?”
You look at him and can’t help the smirk that spreads across your lips. You retort by splashing water in his face childishly, getting him back for what he did just a few seconds earlier. He gasps and launches toward you, wrapping an arm around your waist to try and playfully tug you under the water.
“Steve! Stop!” You shout with a surprised laugh, before getting pulled under the water. It lasts just a second before he’s pulling you back up and holding you closer to his chest. You realize that he’s holding the ladder that’s at the edge of the dock, not wanting to actually put you in danger.
You giggle and your hands wrap around his biceps for support, the feeling of your chest, stomach and hips against him making you dizzy. “You’re insane, Harrington.”
He laughs and lets you go, almost too quickly, like maybe he surprised even himself by pulling you closer like that, like he wasn’t supposed to let that slip. He gets out of the lake first, and you trail behind him, both going back to lounging on your blankets and soaking up the sun in silence.
Later that night, your parents, Steve and you are all sitting around the campfire, watching the floating embers rise to the sky as you all talk and share stories. Well, more like your parents are sharing stories to Steve about you, absolutely roasting you.
“…and she had that imaginary friend probably for like two years.” Your mother says, looking at your father for his approval of the timeline.
Steve laughs. “Wait, the fully grey, scary-looking guy named Tom stuck with you for two years? Damn, you were a weird child.”
You groan, hiding your face behind your hands, but unable to hide your amusement.
The conversation starts to dwindle, your parents retreating to the cottage with yawns and whispered goodnights. You’re not so sure how it happened, but you’re laying on your back on a blanket stiffened by the rays, with Steve laying next to you. He’s not touching you, but he’s close. You can almost feel the heat radiating from him.
The night is dark, the stars fully visible with the lack of moon and light pollution. The embers of the now dying fire are strong enough to warm your feet, but not enough to emit light. The silence settles easily between you and Steve.
But then he breaks it. “Thanks for letting me come up here with you.”
You turn your head to look at him, but his eyes stay tuned to the sky. You can barely make out his profile – the slope of his nose, the freckles dotting his skin, the faint stubble, his pink and slightly chapped lips. Gorgeous. You hum. “You know, I’m pretty glad to have company.”
He finally turns his head and he locks eyes with you. Maybe you should have turned away, avoided the eye contact and looked back at the inky expanse covered in tiny white dots. But the laziness and heaviness that comes from a day spent enjoying the summer prevents you from doing so.
His eyes are shining, the thousands of stars seemingly reflected in all their glory in a fraction of the space. He turns on his side, the motion bringing him closer to you, his knee pressing on the side of your thigh. He props his head on his elbow and looks down at you. You catch the way his gaze drifts down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “Tell me not to do it.”
Your lips part, confusion making a small crease appear between your eyebrows. Your breath catches as you speak softly. “Do what?”
His eyes fixate on that crease, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face as he smooths the offensive groove with his thumb. “Tell me not to kiss you.”
If he didn’t hear it before, he hears it now. The air in your lungs stick there, your eyes searching his gaze frantically for any sign of mockery, of a cruel joke. But you find nothing but want. You stay silent.
He leans in gently, giving you time to pull away, to say that you’d rather not, to let him down easy. Instead, you meet him halfway, and that pulls a surprised little sound from him.
The kiss starts slow, exploratory, his hand sliding down to cup your neck. It doesn’t take long before it’s deepening though, your own hands burying into his hair and pulling him closer to you. He groans approvingly into your mouth, his tongue licking the seem of your lips in a silent plea for access.
And you grant it to him willingly, your tongue meeting his in a sinful dance, teeth and lips coordinating in a choreography designed to make you want more. He slips his leg between yours and starts to cover you with his body, the weight of it pressing you into the ground deliciously.
You part your legs eagerly for him, the outline of his erection pressing against your heated core through your sweatpants. It makes your breath stutter and you tug on his hair to make the kiss stop. “Wait, Steve,”
He whimpers at the sting on his scalp, his mind going hazy at the sensation, but he locks his eyes with yours. “What is it, baby? Do you wanna stop? We can stop if you don’t-“
You cut him off. “No, no. I want you, just… is this like, a casual thing for you?”
He looks at you like you grew a second – no, scratch that – a third head. “Casual? I… no, this is anything but casual to me.”
You look up at him and if there’s one thing about Steve that you know, it’s that he cares too much about his friends to play them. You know deep down in your bones that he’s telling the truth, and it both soothes you and ignites the need in you. “Thank God.”
You’re pulling him back down, and the newly found agreement of more washes over you both, lowering the restraint. His hands go up and down your sides, slipping under your shirt and touching your heated skin. You reach down and pull at his shirt, and it doesn’t take long for him to take the hint and sit back on his knees to rip it off him. You take the initiative of removing your own at the same time, your bare breasts resting nice and pretty on your chest as you lay back down on the blanket and gaze up at him.
He’s frozen in place, admiring the view in front of him like a man that’s been starved for too long and finally gets to feast. His hands find your knees and go up your thighs, reaching the waistband of your sweatpants. “Can I?”
You nod shyly, lifting your hips off the blanket to help him take them off you. His fingers graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he leans back over you, propping one hand next to your head. He presses his hips back between your legs, and he finds that spot with his lips just behind your ear that makes you feel like you’re slipping away. A soft whimper leaves your mouth, and he swears right then and there that he’ll start a new religion, making the hymns your moans.
He kisses and licks down your neck, tasting the slightly salty and softened skin. He traces down your body, pressing a line of affection between your breasts, taking a detour to the left to press a few open mouth kisses to the swell of your chest.
“Mm… Steve.” Your voice is like sugar, sweet and addictive.
“I got you, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” His words are spoken against your stomach, his lips reaching the hem of your underwear and looking up at you for consent.
You nod, parting your legs even more. “Please, Stevie.”
Oh. He whimpers at that, the pleading tone of your voice, like you’ll disintegrate if you don’t have him. It makes his head spin.
He presses a soft kiss right against your clit over your panties, before pressing his face against you and breathing in. You smell like heaven, a mix of lingering sunscreen and arousal that makes his hips rut against the ground where he’s laying on his belly. “Fucking perfect.”
He pulls your panties to the side, taking a second to look at you. It’s dark, he can barely see anything, but it’s enough to know how wet you are for him. He blows a cool stream of air toward your heated pussy, your hips bucking up at the sensation. “Oh God, please don’t tease, baby.”
He chuckles, before leaning closer. “Sorry, honey. I like playing with my food.”
You would have found it gross if it wasn’t such a Steve thing to say, and if his tongue didn’t make contact with your needy and puffy clit right after the sentence came out of his mouth. Your hand immediately shoots through his hair to hold him against you, a moan tearing from your chest.
He groans in approval, the vibration making its way through you and making you clench around nothing. “Fuck, you taste amazing.” His tongue is lazy and wet as he eats you out like you’re a delicacy, taking his time to learn you and what makes you twitch. He listens for how your breathing gets quicker, how your moans get more careless when he finds the right rhythm. He feels for how your thighs spread even wider, needing more, clenching your muscles in an effort to focus on the sensation.
His own hips are lazily rolling and pressing against the grass through the blanket, needing relief from how painfully hard eating you out is making him. Your moans are turning into incoherent babbles, pleading for more as you tug at his hair. He understands what you need, bringing his middle and ring finger up to your entrance before sinking them inside you. “There you go, just needed to be filled a little, huh?” They slip in easily from how wet you are, and he starts pressing in tiny upward thrusts, stimulating your entrance and that spot inside you that you can never quite get on your own. His tongue goes back to circling your clit, slowly but with a maddening pressure.
“Oh fuck, Steve! Right… there, oh my god…” You moan louder, your eyes shutting in pleasure as your hips roll against his face and his fingers. The knot in your stomach tightens dangerously quick, your slick starting to drip down his palm and wrist.
He moans against your pussy, getting lost in your pleasure. He ignores the burn in his forearm, trying to keep his rhythm steady for you. He mumbles against your clit. “Come for me, baby. Need to feel it.”
You let out a cry – a distortion of his name – tears forming at the corners of your eyes as stars rivaling with the ones hung in the sky burst behind them. Your pussy clenches around his fingers as you come apart for him, your grip tightening in his hair, keeping him against you as he helps you ride out every wave. His owns moans are muffled by how forcefully he’s still pressed in your pussy, his hips stuttering against the ground.
He finally starts to slow his movements, pulling out his fingers and licking your entrance softly to taste your release. “God, you’re incredible…” He starts kissing up your body until he’s hovering right over your face. You’re flushed, hair a mess, lips red and swollen from biting down on them. He looks just as wrecked. You wrap your arms around his waist and pull him down on you, kissing him and tasting yourself on him. You hum in delight, your mind finally starting to believe that this is happening.
But then… you feel something cool and wet press against your lower belly. He feels it too, and he breaks the kiss to lift his hips and look at you sheepishly. You look down, the dark patch in front of his grey sweatpants is visible even in the dark, the size of it exposing it to be way more than any amount of precum you’ve ever seen. He speaks before you can.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Honey. You were just too hot and you tasted so good-“
You cut him off with a pleased giggle, your arms wrapping loosely around his neck. “Did you come just from eating me out, Harrington?”
He groans and presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”
You nudge his cheek with your nose, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be. That’s… the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He lets out an incredulous breath, before rolling you both over so he’s laying on his back and you’re resting your head on his chest, your arm loosely resting over the soft give of his stomach. His fingers run though the soft strands of your hair. When he finally speaks – lips pressed against your temple – his voice is full of reverence and affection. “You’re such a weirdo, you know that?”
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